


Gloxinia for Happy Days

by Dizzydodo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, College Student Keith (Voltron), Florist Shiro (Voltron), Language of Flowers, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Sappy Ending, Sheith Secret Santa 2017, hanakotoba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzydodo/pseuds/Dizzydodo
Summary: There's still a language barrier between them, but sooner or later they get their flowers sorted out.





	Gloxinia for Happy Days

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Secret Santa gift for Holyangelheart on tumblr- any and all flower meanings should be taken with a grain of salt but I've listed them at the end for the curious.

Anemone for sincerity, yellow camellia for longing, carnation for fascination… And a primrose because no matter how hard he tried to tell Keith what their time together meant to him, Shiro just hadn't found the words for it yet.

Of course the arrangements that had slowly begun to take over the shop's display said it all for him, but if Keith could read any meaning into flowers he hadn't said anything yet. Considering Keith's longest surviving plant of any kind was the cactus he kept on his desk next to a stack of Japanese textbooks he studied religiously, Shiro doubted the language of flowers was high on his list of priorities.

Yet somehow Keith had become a regular customer anyway, dropping by at least every other week to pluck a flower here and there- Shiro could list them all off the top of his head, he was that far gone: A crimson gloxinia, scarlet zinnias, a daffodil…

He wasn't going to indulge in this, not today and not now. At any moment Keith would be walking through those doors, hair almost artfully mussed, a grace to his stride that made cats look clumsy by comparison, and a shirt just tight enough to show off his slender strength. Maybe it was a good thing Keith couldn't read Shiro's arrangements, since fewer and fewer of them ever indicated a pure and chaste love.

The bell above the door tinkled and Shiro swallowed to force his heart back into his chest where it belonged, a smile already creeping across lips that had only just begun to learn that simple expression again. For the first time that he could remember Keith had zipped his jacket, evidently surrendering to the bite of winter in the air. Weeks after everyone else, of course.

"Morning!" He could at least try to pretend Keith's visits weren't the highlight of his day, but what would be the point?

"Afternoon, I think." Keith cast a glance outside, barely stifling a grimace at the overcast sky. When he had been fresh off the plane, Keith had insisted he was no stranger to the cold; nights in the Texas desert could be as frigid as the day was hot. He was visibly reconsidering his opinion now that the forecast was threatening snow.

Finally remembering himself, Shiro all but tossed his nonsensical arrangement aside in the rush to grab his coat and flip the sign to closed. He didn't notice Keith's curious flick of the eyes toward his flowers, the twist of a frown that was there and then gone.

"Where're we heading this time?" Keith closed the distance between them quickly, iron to a magnet. He stood near enough that he could feel the body heat radiating from Shiro, always welcome but on cold days like this especially so. He nearly wilted with disappointment when Shiro declined the opportunity to slip an arm about his shoulders. He would be heading home soon, and then there would be no more such opportunities.

"Ever been ice skating?" Shiro's grin was devilishly inviting. It banished the last of Keith's lingering mood.

With the days getting shorter and darker, sometimes it felt like everything weighed more heavily on him. It could be perfectly warm when he woke up, raising his spirits just enough that he felt them come crashing down in the afternoon when his breath began to fog. At the beginning of the semester, he had hoped his classmates would warm up to him. Shiro had taken to him almost immediately and Keith had considered it a sign that he had finally found wherever it was he fit.

He had after a manner of speaking. If his circle of friends was still small, then at least it had left him with plenty of time to spend in his favorite flower shop. Shiro and he had only grown closer after the last few months, and in the end Keith had decided that was all he needed anyway. Just not necessarily all he wanted.

"Is it anything like rollerskating?"

_Anemone for the forsaken, camellias for loveliness, and carnations for indecision_. Indecision was something at least. Or did it mean pure love? He would gladly take either.

"Are you willing to find out?"

He was in a good mood. Keith's brightened even further; the medium-weight jacket suddenly felt just a little too warm and the pink on his cheeks was definitely not windburn any more. Boldly he looped an arm through Shiro's, surrendering to the grin his cheeks had been fighting practically since he walked through the door. "Lead the way."

 

 

Keith was smiling. Not the tiny half-smile that could almost be mistaken for a smirk, not the stiff twist of the lips that he tried to pass off for a smile when he was caught off-guard. Not even the smug shadow of a grin he wore whenever he brought his papers back. Today his eyes practically sparkled with excitement and his smile threatened to split his face.

Evidently Keith liked the idea of skating. Shiro filed that away for later, too busy appreciating the way Keith thoughtlessly wove into him as they walked. He probably should have released his arm a couple blocks ago, but Keith hadn't made any move to pull away and Shiro was too taken with the novelty of the weight tucked into his side to let him go yet.

Normally conversation flowed easily between them, but the silence was every bit as comfortable. Of the many things Shiro loved about him, one of his favorite was that Keith never felt the need to fill the space between them with words. He spoke when he had something to say, and was otherwise content merely to enjoy the company.

Shiro had a lot to say, but barring a crisis it wouldn't happen tonight. As to when… Keith said he didn't want to bother with Christmas; there were no good friends or family to keep him company and he wasn't going to decorate just for himself. Shiro hadn't bothered in years; why would he when there was no one left he cared to share it with?

But Keith would probably be leaving before the New Year, and Shiro was hoping they could make a memory or two that wasn't sitting alone in their dark apartments eating precooked meals while the rest of the city enjoyed their gifts and family. It was no exaggeration to say he had been working on the arrangement since late spring, waiting for the winter blooms and his last chance at telling Keith he would cut off his other arm if it meant he would stay.

"What's with that face?" Keith snorted, tightening his grip slightly. He was still smiling, but there was a question there.

"Booked your ticket yet?"

No need to say which one. Shiro hardly had time to mourn the loss of Keith's smile before he had his answer: "Not yet. In a few more weeks."

Now it was his turn to smile, small and secret. Keith never dragged his heels, no sooner did he make up his mind to do something than it was done. Yet he was choosing to wait for the final ticket home, to extend his stay just a little past his infernal exams. Shiro had every reason to hope his humble self might have had something to do with that.

"Will you stick around for Christmas?"

"Probably not. The airport will be packed from then to the New Year, and my lease runs out in January."

Shiro hummed sympathetically, but the seed of an idea began to take root. "December will be busy anyway. You could take the room above the shop if you wanted. Stay until the crowds thin out."

Too much too fast, he thought, but Shiro had never been one to disregard his gut instinct. If he let Keith leave without so much as making the offer he knew he would regret it. He didn't have to confess on Christmas, could do it this evening or a week from now if he had to, but Keith had to know he was welcome to stay. A week, a month, a year or forever. Between friends, who was counting?

Keith stumbled and Shiro steadied him quickly, pulling him up and away from whatever treacherous crack must have caught his feet. "There's a room above the shop?"

Shiro shrugged, "It's a little dusty, but it's furnished and everything's intact."

Or it should be. Shiro hadn't set foot in the place for years, not since he had come home. He had gone back just long enough to collect his necessities, toss dust sheets over the bed and couch and then promptly got the hell out and found an apartment that didn't echo with so many memories.

"What's the rent like?"

"If you can watch the shop on weekends we'll call it even." Ha. Shiro had never opened that door to anyone else. He couldn't bear to clean everything out of the apartment, but he didn't want strangers picking through his past either. No amount of money could have convinced him to take on a renter and he would have spent every last bit of his savings to avoid moving back in himself. Keith wasn't a stranger though, and the idea of him making a place for himself among the rest of Shiro's memories felt right somehow.

"I think I could do that." Keith spoke slowly, as though measuring his response and weighing it for truth. "I think" wasn't a yes, but it sent a frisson of delight through Shiro anyway.

"When could I move in?"

That sounded far more definite. "Whenever you want." Casual.

"Start of the month?"

"That's this weekend."

"If it's inconvenient-"

"I just thought with your lease-"

"I'll take care of it."

And somehow, impossibly, it was as easy as that.

 

 

 

Keith's giddiness had a chance to settle by the time they found the ice rink Shiro had in mind. Indoor, the lights dimmed enough to show off the multi-hued strobe effects and music blaring loud enough that he had to fight the urge to cover his ears. If Shiro's expression was anything to go by, this wasn't exactly what he had imagined either. Keith almost offered to leave, but Shiro was halfway to the desk before he could even form the words.

He followed, pleased despite himself. His skin was prickling with cold even under the jacket, and the red in his ears was no longer just a lingering blush from Shiro's thoughtless offer. His mind circled back to that, a surge of happy warmth making him clench his fists and swallow the grin he was sure looked half crazy.

Shiro had offered him a home, a small room above a small store likely just big enough for one person to be comfortable. _Bounded in a nutshell and a king of infinite space_. He had it bad, Keith conceded. Bad enough that he would pay the remaining rent for the last couple months and happily relocate at the earliest opportunity. Bad enough that even the thought Shiro cared enough to let him that close and keep him even a few weeks longer had him stepping lighter as though walking on clouds.

It was too soon for _I love you_ , but Keith had almost blurted it out just the same. He would before he left, finally gifting Shiro with the bookmarks he had been painstakingly pressing between the pages of his favorite books for months now. Remembering the arrangements Shiro had tended toward recently: loneliness, capriciousness, indecision, Keith hoped Shiro would read the wishes for happy days and the secret of love at first sight he had been keeping so long. He hoped it would be a comfort once he was gone.

On his more whimsical days, he imagined Shiro asking him to stay, considered what it would be like to finish his major away from home, trying to build a life here with no more than Shiro and his own stubbornness for a foundation. He had worked with far less before and managed well enough, but of course some nagging voice of insecurity worried that eventually Shiro too would leave.

With long practice Keith had learned to quiet that voice; he silenced it completely now with the words Shiro had given him: Patience yields focus.

Patience meant waiting until he was ready to say his piece, not worrying over a future that might not even happen.

He was almost audibly wrenched out of his thoughts when Shiro spoke again, leaning close so he wouldn't have to yell over the music. "What size?"

Ah, a chance to show off his hard-won skills, Keith couldn't resist the opportunity. He brushed past Shiro, rattling off a polite greeting and asking after skates. He could practically feel Shiro beaming with pleasure behind him. Immersion had worked wonders for his conversational skills; he could navigate the city without help, and even get the right skates apparently. He hoisted them up like trophies, trying not to feel too smug when Shiro's brows winged up in surprise.

"You've been practicing." He snatched his skates with a flourish, guiding Keith down toward the rink without so much as a word, falling into step out of pure habit.

"Off and on." Mostly on, if he was being honest. His books were falling apart at the binding and if he had a penny for every late night email to his tutor with a grammar question it would have paid his tuition and then some. He preened a little when Shiro clamped an approving hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough that Keith thrilled to the pressure. Until last year he could have sworn he didn't crave anyone's approval. Then Shiro had waltzed in from nowhere with the beaming smiles and congratulatory pats and suddenly Keith realized he was looking for every opportunity to impress.

Shiro never disappointed either.

Glancing toward the rink, Keith swallowed nervously. He had the gut feeling he was going to make a fool of himself out on the ice. It had been years since he had skated, and while he prided himself on a good sense of balance, watching the other couples fumble and trip around the rink wasn't doing much for his confidence. The idea of tripping clumsily in front of a crowd that size had his skin crawling with unease. All those eyes on him and Shiro at his side-

That was the part to focus on. Shiro had brought him here to have fun, and he was going to have fun if it killed him. Another gentle nudge and Keith determinedly wiped the frown lines from his brow, forcing his muscles to release their tension as he fell into step beside Shiro once more.

Keith's first step on the ice was wobbly, ankles threatening to twist in ways he was sure they shouldn't, but his fears of seeming clumsy or out of place were immediately laid to rest when Shiro tumbled past him, good arm flailing for a grip. Instinctively Keith grabbed for him, laughing aloud at the surprised grimace frozen on Shiro's face.

"I thought you were gonna teach me to skate?" He teased, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping his balance as he hauled Shiro to his feet.

"I thought we'd learn together." Shiro barked over the music, unsteady but gamely keeping his feet under him. He glared at the ice as though it had personally attacked him, in no hurry to move away from Keith's steadying hand.

Keith tried to pretend he wasn't memorizing every facet of the moment to drag out and re-examine later, but wasn't sure how successful he was. He had the nagging sense everyone was watching them, laughing quietly at how besotted he looked when his partner was so oblivious.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it, actually."

Shiro slanted him a wicked look just before he yanked; Keith bit back a yelp as they both sat down hard, "You sure? You still feel a little unsteady."

"So far we're two to one for falling."

"Oh, so now it's a competition?"

"It would only be a competition if we were fairly matched." Keith countered cheekily.

"Then you wouldn't mind if we bet drinks you'll lose."

"I wouldn't want to take advantage." Slowly, carefully, Keith pushed himself back up.

To his surprise Shiro followed with no help at all, obviously struggling to look dignified while he pretended his tailbone wasn't smarting. "Not a problem, because you're going to lose."

 

 

An hour in and Shiro almost regretted his cocky promise. Almost. Keith had taken to skating like a fish took to water, while Shiro found the whole business was a lot more… involved than he remembered. Keith wasn't exactly graceful by any stretch of the imagination, a little wobbly at the knees and prone to flailing when he lost his balance. He hadn't fallen again though.

Shiro couldn't say the same. His funny bone still hadn't stopped smarting since he smacked it on the ice a few minutes ago, and some of the bruises his knees and pride had sustained were going to stick with him for a few days. He would have done it all again in a heartbeat just for the pleasure of Keith skating behind him, ready to lend a hand if he asked and always ready to laugh at his misfortune as soon as he made sure Shiro wasn't hurt.

The night wasn't playing out as he had expected at all. Granted, he hadn't been much of an athlete as a kid, but Shiro remembered more than a few nights at this rink and he liked to think he hadn't been half bad. It had been years though, and there was only so much he could blame on dull blades. Of course part of it was the constant distraction of watching Keith from the corner of his eye, enjoying the way tension seeped out of him as the night wore on.

Gradually the music had quieted, tempo changing to something slower as couples slowly paired off. Shiro had noticed the looks they were getting, especially when they stayed so close. At first he had naively assumed it was his prosthetic arm, though until then he had managed to forget about it for the night, a blessing in and of itself.

Then he'd realized Keith and he were behaving just like any other couple on the ice, hovering over each other and laughing, a little too close for anything but good friends or lovers. If anything, his mood only improved with the realization; let them stare, neither Keith nor he could be bothered to care. If Keith had noticed he hadn't made any mention of it or moved away in the slightest and that was all that mattered.

"So, are you ready to call it quits and buy me a drink?"

Shiro almost swallowed his tongue in shock at the words spoken practically in his ear. Keith was shorter than him by a few critical inches, but he had no trouble making himself heard. Shiro was certain he hadn't imagined the flirtatious undertone to the invitation either.

Nonchalantly, Shiro began to make for the exit, or at least as nonchalantly as he could manage with his face burning up and his heart flying at a hundred beats a minute. "Any time, Keith."

He would have been lying if he claimed he didn't enjoy the way Keith's cheeks heated to match his jacket. Maybe Keith wasn't entirely blind to his feelings after all, maybe fate was finally smiling on him for once and Keith was already deciding whether he returned them.

 

 

* * *

 

Camellias of every shade dotted the shop, from blood red to white as the snow that had yet to fall, holly berry and hellebores complementing nicely in all their vivid colors. Keith was reasonably certain he had never seen so many green and growing things all in one place. His eyes flashed with bright color whenever he closed them now, and the sweet scent of winter blossoms lingered even in his apartment upstairs. Shiro had laughingly assured him that after another week or so he wouldn't notice any more.

Keith hoped not. He had already begun to associate the scent with home, though he would only have admitted it under excruciating torture. It wasn't home though, and therein lay the crux of the matter. Shiro was enjoying his company for now; Keith kept a watch over the shop at night and the weekends, kept the apartment orderly except for the piles of books he had yet to sort and put away or the scattering of maps he had yet to hang. Even his clothes were still in his boxes and suitcase, pushed unobtrusively into a corner.

During the day he and Shiro would share duties; it had taken less than a week for Keith to prove he was good for more than cashiering. If Shiro ever raised a brow at the combinations he came up with then at least he seldom commented on it and it was even rarer that he would ever bother to change the arrangements any.

Carnations and anemones. _Alas for my poor heart, I am forsaken_. Keith's mouth crooked into a somewhat bitter smile. Good thing Shiro couldn't speak the language of the flowers he sold or Keith would never live down the embarrassment of his increasingly melodramatic arrangements. He disassembled them quickly, finding more fortunate flowers with kinder thoughts. Sometimes he could swear Shiro instinctively sensed the melancholy arrangements, of the few he had changed all had carried one or two wistful thoughts with them.

"You should leave that one as is. It's a little unorthodox, but that's half its charm."

Coupled with the warm but crooked smile and the slight color staining Shiro's cheeks, Keith could almost have taken that for a veiled pick-up line. Shiro was nothing if not straightforward though, and he had never, outside of an errant and doubtless unintentional flower or two, given any indication that he considered Keith anything other than a friend.

"It's a little unlucky for the season."

"Unlucky?" Shiro paused in his work, a stunning arrangement of roses and viburnum meant to take pride of place in the window.

"Pining and disappointment." Keith gestured to the individual blooms, just an edge of pride to the words at being able to show off some of his lesser used skills.

Shiro's eyes flew from the flowers to Keith's face, a furrow of confusion between his brows that Keith was still tempted to smooth away no matter how many times he noticed it. "I'm sorry?"

"Anemones are never good luck, same with carnations usually." Keith shrugged, "Not really the best for Christmas or New Year's."

If anything Shiro only looked more confused, stripping the glove from his hand and pursing his lips in a way that suggested he was deliberately biting back a question.

Keith answered it anyway, pointing first to the carnation and then to the anemone- "A broken heart and 'forsaken'."

"Ah." For a moment Shiro's eyes lit with understanding, a happy spark that Keith couldn't begin to guess the source of. "I think I understand."

He was smirking in a way that made Keith want to scurry up to his room and hide all the faded flowers pressed between the pages of his books, bolt the door behind him and only emerge half an hour to boarding time, if then.

"You think?" He ventured cautiously, shoulders hunching defensively. He couldn't help but feel like he had just given away a secret, not just any secret because of course Keith Kogane never did anything by half measures, but the secret. The one that was supposed to stay locked behind his teeth until he was sure the time was right.

Shiro hummed in answer, already pulling his glove on and turning back to his work, seemingly completely oblivious to the anxiousness roiling in Keith's eyes.

Rebuffed once, he wasn't about to tip his hand by asking again. He did, however, move around the counter to more easily make out Shiro's suspiciously smiling face. Gone were the lines of concentration, the look of dedicated attention that usually accompanied the shifts they spent fashioning arrangements. Shiro was still smiling, widely now, and his movements lacked any of the grace of a few minutes ago.

If Shiro had put the pieces together, and Keith knew he was observant enough to manage it, then at least he didn't seem annoyed at the thought of having an admirer. But if he had kept his secret for the entire year only to let it slip a matter of days before he meant to…

Keith clenched his teeth and swallowed an exasperated hiss. Between the two of them, Shiro was the thoughtful one; always one to make a reservation or plan out the day well enough that they actually managed to see every destination with time to spare. Keith's methods were a little less exact and always subject to change.

This once he had meant to plan it perfectly. The timing, the atmosphere, the stars all aligning, with an escape route ready just in case. Looked like he would just have to wing it again.

"Any plans for Christmas?" Shiro ambushed him mid-thought, turning just enough in his seat to catch Keith's eye. The sun obligingly beamed out from behind the clouds that had been concealing it all day, bathing him in a halo of golden light to equal any stained glass saint. Keith mentally agreed.

"I thought we were open half the day." We. Too late to call it back, and if Shiro had noticed how casually Keith had assumed half-ownership of the shop he didn't comment on it.

"What about the rest of it?"

"I don't know. You?" His gifts were neatly arranged on the windowsill in his room, dried and pressed. He forced himself to breathe, hoping Shiro was free.

"It's supposed to snow by nightfall. I thought we could go out, grab dinner, and watch it come down."

"I'll cover drinks this time."

Shiro snorted, unconsciously shifting the elbow that had turned every possible shade of black and blue in the week following their escapade. Keith tried not to wince and failed- both of them had come away a little battered by the ice, but Shiro had easily taken the brunt of it, though he still stoutly refused to admit it.

"Careful, I'll take you up on it."

"Good. It's a date." _Wait. Oh no. No, no, no._

"It's a date." Shiro echoed, so easily Keith didn't bother stumbling all over his tongue to correct himself.

 

 

They closed early that night, though Shiro puttered about the shop until long after, adding a flower here or checking his roses for thorns- busy work. Keith suspected he had actually stayed for the conversation, which had skipped over everything from the ice rink escapade to Shiro's favorite flower-"Gardenias, maybe. Or sunflowers." He had said with a private little smile that Keith missed as soon as it was gone.

Those smiles had become more frequent of late. Back when they had first met, Shiro's face had resisted every attempt at a smile, always just a little too somber. Now it was rare to pass a day without grins or laughter; Keith, formerly not known for levity himself, had responded in kind. It was a comfortable routine between them, and one he would miss if he went back state-side.

If. It had been 'when' until Shiro opened the apartment for him. Small and cozy, furnished with a low bed and three bookcases pushed side to side with a desk at the window. The place had felt abandoned, cold in a way that the weather alone would not explain and so still Keith thought he could hear the blood pumping through his veins.

He had taken to it immediately, wondering at Shiro's reluctance to cross the threshold but not willing to push the issue.

There had still been books on the bookcase: a handful of what looked like hard-boiled noir mysteries, and several shelves dedicated solely to unmistakable science fiction. That had earned an amused huff, as had the textbooks arranged neatly on the bottom shelf by subject and author's name. They still had bookmarks and notes peeking out, tempting him to flip through and see what had caught Shiro's attention.

"Make yourself at home," Shiro had murmured from the door, glancing around the place like he half-expected to be told off for it.

"Thanks, Shiro." He wanted to say more, but Keith's throat closed on the words. Fortunately Shiro had never held that peculiar reticence against him, nodding as though that was thanks enough. It wasn't, not by half.

He had left then, in a hurry to get away from whatever ghosts obviously haunted this place in his mind. A private person himself, Keith had tried not to pry into anything, opening drawers warily and ignoring the labels on the boxes stacked in the closet. The books had proved irresistible though and Keith had thumbed through most of them, even cracking open an album by accident.

He had set that one outside the door, and by afternoon of the next day it was gone, vanished into the ether or more likely Shiro's apartment.

The others had been equally fascinating, though far less intrusive. Some of the textbooks were old enough that Keith's father might have used them as a student. Those were battered and worn, penciled notes obviously left there by a child's hands, doodles of space ships or questions written in the margins that Keith was pleased to find he could decipher. He could trace a life through those books from early childhood to high school at least, the doodles slowly changing into equations, the questions becoming fewer and fewer, complex enough that he struggled to make sense of them.

It didn't take long for him to begin feeling at home, exactly as Shiro had invited him to do. Even now though, his things were crowded to one side of the room, those few that were unpacked. He couldn't bring himself to disturb all the once-precious things lying around. The thought of packing his things again also weighed heavy on him. It would be easier to leave if he pretended he had never imagined staying, that this was just a vacation before he headed home again.

Keith eyed the suitcase in the far corner of the room, tucked against his desk and zipped tight. He thought back to earlier, when he had felt his thoughts plainly on his face for Shiro to read, when they had agreed to a date, however jokingly on Shiro's part.

After all, Shiro had told him to make himself at home. Wasn't it rude not to?

 

 

Shiro hadn't been halfway home when the first flake of snow hit his face, cold but slight. He hadn't noticed, too caught up in warm thoughts to feel meager things like snowflakes or wind chill. Once again Keith had found a way to surprise him; a thoughtless comment and all the pieces had fallen beautifully into place. They had been speaking two very different languages, both of them trying to say the same thing in the same way and still failing fantastically.

It had never occurred to him that Keith's love of flowers was anything beyond aesthetic, that even in that way their languages might differ in a way they couldn't bridge without first knowing there was a miscommunication. A few quick searches had proved his suspicions correct, and anemones were easily Shiro's favorite flowers now. Giddy in a way he hadn't been in years, Shiro had quickly searched for gloxinias, zinnias, every flower he could remember Keith choosing, and every result only lifted the weight that had settled in his chest as Keith's departure neared, twisting his stomach into a not-unpleasant mess of nerves and joy.

By the time he actually noticed the snow coming down in thick, flaky drops of white he was whistling a merry little tune. And by the time he had made it back to the shop, panting a little from exertion and too warm beneath his jacket, he already knew exactly how he wanted the evening to end.

With his clothes folded into the drawers of the single dresser, suitcase shoved out of sight in the closet and charts and posters hung on the wall, Keith wouldn't have hesitated to call this room home any more. All that was missing were a few minor details, like the flowers that were still arranged on his windowsill rather than tucked in whatever book Shiro was reading or better yet, Shiro's company so he could show off how much he had livened up the place.

As though summoned by his wistful thoughts, Keith heard all too familiar footsteps taking the stairs two and three at a time. He darted to the door, swinging it open before Shiro had the chance to knock. They froze in an awkward tableau for a few seconds, Keith halfway out the door and Shiro with his arm raised, almost nose to nose when Keith glanced up at him in surprise.

The next moment, Shiro grinned so brightly Keith couldn't help but respond to it, relaxing for what was obviously going to be good news.

"It's snowing!"

"What?" Keith rushed back to the window, pride instantly forgotten. "I thought the forecast said it was clear tonight?"

He leapt with surprise when Shiro responded from just off his shoulder, "Does it look clear to you?"

"Is it going to snow all night?" Would he miss his first snow? Shiro didn't give him the option of hesitating, thoughtlessly snatching up Keith's hand to practically drag him out the door, pausing just long enough to let Keith stomp into his boots and shrug a coat on before ushering him outside into the cold.

Instinctively Keith canted his head back, stretching his tongue out to catch a flake and failing miserably though his eyelashes were coated in seconds. Finally he caught one, the flake dissolving so fast he might have imagined it. He glanced down, admiring the light dusting on the ground, their footprints disturbing the otherwise pristine scene.

"You still want that drink now?"

"Trying to wiggle out of it?" Shiro countered.

"I'm not-"

"Kidding. I'd rather not head in anyway. Park?"

Keith shot him a look of wide-eyed panic? Excitement? Shiro couldn't read it before Keith ran back in, barely remembering to peel his boots off. He rejoined him a handful of minutes later, hands fisted in his pockets and a pleased smile hovering on his lips. Shiro didn't bother asking questions, knowing from experience Keith could give lessons to the Sphinx on enigmatic answers.

They set off, and this time Keith was the one to effortlessly twine his arm through Shiro's, his other hand still firmly clamped in his pocket, other gloved fist clenched tight in that way he had whenever he was keeping a secret. Shiro let him keep it, enjoying the contrast of white flakes against Keith's dark hair, the close silence of a snowy night punctuated only by their foggy breath and the occasional contented hum.

By the time they reached the park, the streetlights had flickered on, lending an eerie peace to the scene. The lights caught on the snow in Keith's hair, giving it a brighter glow, not that he noticed, red mittens extended to catch as many droplets as he could, enchanted with the very idea of snow. Shiro quietly decided that he would be the one to shovel the sidewalk in the morning, let Keith enjoy the magic as long as he could.

When he spoke at last, he couldn't bring himself to raise his voice above a whisper and shatter the silence, "This would be good for snowballs if we had more of it."

From Keith's grin he could tell he was in for a long week of ice down his collar and surprise attacks. He looked forward to it.

"It's not as cold as I thought it would be. A lot softer too." Keith peeled a mitten off, letting it land on his bare hand and trickle away.

He frowned, gaze flicking to Shiro almost guiltily. Shiro hummed a question, answered when Keith waved the mitten while arching a brow.

Naturally it would snow the one day he had left his gloves at home. Hands tucked in the warmth of his jacket he hadn't even had the grace to notice until Keith pointed it out. He sighed self-deprecatingly, "I'm fine, I'll just keep it tucked in my pocket."

"No need."

Shiro froze when Keith caught his hand in a firm grip, twining their fingers. "Warmer now?"

"Hm." If it was less than a word, it was all he could manage with Keith beaming up at him, no smile necessary. He squeezed tentatively, delighted when Keith squeezed back. It wasn't exactly the timing he had hoped for, what with Christmas a weekend away and him empty-handed, but Shiro knew he wasn't going to last the night without telling Keith he liked him as far more than a friend and that the apartment was his if he wanted to stay.

No time like the present. "I-"

"I have something for you." Keith blurted out at the same time, talking so fast it was a miracle he didn't bite his tongue.

He hesitated, swallowing tightly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Shiro's stomach was doing somersaults again; he didn't notice how tightly he was clamping onto Keith's hand, and Keith wasn't voicing any objections. He laughed lightly, almost choking on it with nerves. "You first."

Keith nodded decisively, looking for all the world as though he was bracing to confront both hell and high water for whatever he meant to say. Shiro hoped he hadn't misjudged.

"I was going to wait until Christmas, but with the snow and-" He clamped his jaw shut on a flood of words, reaching into his pocket with his free hand to pull out a laminated gloxinia. The first of the flowers he had bought at Shiro's shop a few weeks after they had met.

Shiro finally noticed the grip he had on Keith's hand and tried to let go, but Keith clung so tightly he didn't have the heart to insist.

"It's a bookmark." Easily the stupidest thing he had ever said. Shiro's cheeks flamed red with shame. Gloxinias, love at first sight in Keith's language of flowers, a secret he had been keeping for what felt like forever and the object of that love couldn't muster more than it's a bookmark. He had ruined it, talking was for poets and he wasn't that.

He would've laughed, but it was tragic. Keith was tilting his head back, squaring his shoulders and preparing to bite a bullet he wouldn't have had to if Shiro had any sort of way with words. He leaned forward instead, lowering himself just a little to put them close enough to kiss. Keith froze in place, the snow falling faster around him though he didn't notice it, shock writ large on his features for anyone to see.

He didn't balk though, even shuffled closer when Shiro leaned in a little more, tilting to catch his lips. He nearly chickened out at the last second, but Keith must have seen it in his eyes because the next moment, Keith had seized his collar to drag him closer, crushing the flower carelessly and pressing the softest of pecks to Shiro's lips. Lighter even than the snow, but enough to send a spark from the tips of his toes straight to the places they touched.

Shiro dared to hook his left arm about Keith's waist and pull him closer. Keith didn't so much as bat an eyelash, freeing the hand he held captive and twining it in Shiro's short hair instead. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean down and catch his lips again, warm and soft and welcoming.

By the time they managed to disentangle themselves, the flower was well and truly crushed and neither one of them were breathing steadily. Not that they cared in the slightest. Shiro caught the flower when Keith would have dropped it, tucking it into his own pocket possessively.

"It's mine, right? You didn't think I'd throw a gift away."

Keith licked his lips, cheeks becomingly flushed. "It's a little…"

"It's my favorite bookmark." Shiro finished for him, with a wry quirk of the lips.

"It's a gloxinia." Keith began hurriedly, "For love."

"At first sight." Shiro prodded, still floating somewhere near paradise.

Keith hunched his shoulders, obviously struggling with the admission but determined to see it through. He reached into his pocket again with fingers that shook minutely either from relief or embarrassment. It was hard to be sure which when he could still feel Shiro's lips against his own, when the smile still hovering on Shiro's face was nothing but contentment and eagerness. He had chosen his gift well, and already received far more in return than he had bargained for.

"Another bookmark." He tried for humor, holding up the scarlet zinnia, striking even at night though the darkness gave its petals an orange tinge. "For constancy," he ground out.

How had this ever seemed like a good idea? Now it just felt melodramatic and overdone, nothing like the quiet confession he had imagined. But then, in the space of a single kiss they had already said everything that needed saying anyway. He would have been lying if he claimed he wasn't enjoying it though, watching the smile creep farther and farther across Shiro's face, seeing the way his eyes followed the flower, already mentally deciding the book he would put it in.

"No daffodils though?"

He knew. The gloxinia was proof enough of that, but he knew everything.

Keith gamely played along anyway. "I don't think they fit anymore."

"They don't." Shiro agreed, "Haven't in a long time, if ever."

"Oh." Daffodils for unrequited love. Only it wasn't as unrequited as he had thought. Maybe never had been if Shiro's words were anything to go by. His thoughts flew back to the wistful arrangements of the past few months that had slowly dominated the shop, the brighter, happier arrangements that had begun to take their place recently, the few times Shiro had plucked a flower from his bouquet only to replace it with another-

"Did you always know?" Keith still hadn't mustered the spine to say it aloud, not with Shiro's gaze fixing him in place as surely as if he had been a butterfly under glass.

"No. I would've said something." Shiro hastened to assure him, "It's just that you forgot to take the language into account."

Keith's sneaking suspicion was confirmed when he continued, "Carnations for fascination, anemones for sincerity… you've been reading in the wrong language."

"Oh." Articulate as ever. What else was he supposed to say after months of a miscommunication over flowers of all things?

"Gloxinia for happy days, daffodils for respect, zinnias for loyalty. I thought you were picking them for friends."

It was absurd, and Keith couldn't quite stifle a relieved laugh. All those months he had spent worrying, planning, convinced that Shiro wouldn't know his own flowers, wouldn't recognize the feelings being laid bare before him and the answer had been as simple as yet another language he needed to learn if he meant to keep working at the shop.

"Then you knew before we came out here."

Shiro nodded, looking as guilty as he did pleased. "I was going to wait for Christmas, but, well."

They shared a grin, wide and unapologetic.

Shiro's grin faded slightly, his hand twining absently through Keith's once more, "I hope this means you haven't bought your ticket yet."

"My landlord won't let me break the lease, and I'm not sure my boss would accept my resignation."

"Not without a year's notice." Shiro agreed, "It's an ironclad lease too. I wouldn't bother with a ticket if I were you, much easier to stay. Anyway, you just unpacked, what good is it to pack up again?"

Keith sobered slightly, "You noticed."

Shiro matched his mood, tucking Keith slightly beneath his chin so he couldn't read his face. Keith allowed it.

"It had been a few years since I'd been in there. It looks better now, with your stuff." Shiro cleared his throat, "I'll clean my stuff out this weekend."

"I don't mind if you leave it."

"No, I want that to be your space. But I could use your help moving if you're free."

"Yes." As soon as they got back he was going to dig out every bit of mistletoe he could find and hang it strategically to ensure they made up for all the months they had missed out on. Until then though, Keith tilted his head back, asking wordlessly for another kiss. Just one more to be absolutely certain that they were finally on the same page with no more miscommunications between them. .

He thrilled to Shiro's hand gliding up to cradle his face like he was something precious, lips pressing quick kisses to the snowflakes caught on his eyelashes, the red tip of his nose and finally his mouth, sweet and lingering and easily the best Christmas gift he could've imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have my language of flowers stuff on hand, and I don't have a dictionary for hanakotoba at all, so all flower meanings are taken either from Wikipedia or notes on Sheila Pickles' "The Language of Flowers."
> 
> Translations provided below, with hanakotoba listed first:
> 
> Anemone: Sincerity/ Forsaken  
> Yellow Camellia: Longing/ loveliness  
> Carnation: Fascination/ indecision and a ton of others  
> Gloxinia: Happy days/love at first sight  
> Zinnia: Loyalty/ Loyalty, affection  
> Daffodil: Respect/ Unrequited love, uncertainty  
> Primrose: Desperate/ usually first love or pining  
> Sunflower: Passionate love in this case/ Adoration  
> Gardenia: Secret love/secret love
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and any concrit (especially RE characterization) would be greatly appreciated!


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